


Learning something new

by asvlm



Series: what am i doing with my life [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Love, Romance, Tragic Romance, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 19:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11259426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asvlm/pseuds/asvlm
Summary: It was a dare, to write thisIt is adult, and there are sads here.





	Learning something new

**Author's Note:**

> I think I proofed this

They’d gotten together a couple years previously. These days, Olivier didn’t even remember just what prompted their relationship, what had caused them to get together. They’d found each other, on the streets of the town, and Olivier had taken him to a drink, one of the first he’d had since those long, long years ago.

They’d ended up in his hotel room, that night. They didn’t sleep together, but instead, talked for hours, his words offering all of the information he knew about his people, his alchemy, his world. She’d asked so much, and at the end of the week, she’d known enough to form a small change in a piece of wood. He’d certainly been proud of her, when he saw that, but the man wasn’t going to say anything. If he did, he knew he’d make it awkward, with his lack of communication skills.

The first time they had sex, Olivier could nearly instantly tell he’d never been with a woman before. Though he was certainly excited. He’d been eager and moaning, his fingers lacing in her hair the moment he finished, pulling her body close, despite her groans of protest. She hadn’t finished that way, but she’d managed to get free of his arms, and she managed to rub herself to fruition, making Scar moan out again, more emotion than he’d more or less even shown. She soon as she finished tightening around him, he’d pulled her fair skin down to his body, his arms wrapped tightly around her. It was during this, in a few moments of vulnerability, that she would let her fingers move to his scars, his tattoos, and trace the patterns

As he allowed it, he’d tell her what each piece of the tattoo meant, what part meant what. He loved to feel her thin fingers against the dark lines, and his head would move to rest against the blonde hair, the clean scent a contrast to what he was used to. He would move his fingers to her shoulder, gently offering a bit of love to her, just the smallest bit of it.

What he was doing wasn’t considered the best, after all. An Ishvalian, an undesirable, consorting with a white woman, one who instigated this all? No one would ever believe it.

His thoughts weren’t on that, when he was pressed deep inside her, of course. His hands would constantly be moving over her body, from her hips up to her sides, his large hands moving over her sides, thumbs brushing over pert nipples. She was always so sensitive on the buds, and he was certainly clad of the fact, since he loved to kiss every inch of the sensitive area. He’d always be pulling her closer to him, his chest brushing her nipples, then her breasts against his skin. His fingers would never leave her, always making sure she was feeling every sensation possible, every modem of pleasure he could offer her.

Right now, though, he was focused on the feeling of the woman below him, his head against her large breasts, and his teeth marking the smooth, fatty skin. Her fingers were scraping his back, and he wanted nothing more than to force her to stop, but he would never lay a hand against her, his mistress, his hopefully soon to be wife.

The actions forced a loud groan from his lips, his hips pressing harder, and quicker into her, and his hand move her breast, so he could bite under it. Every single action he was doing was making him tip closer and closer, but he was insistent on her finishing before him, so his hand moved down to her clit, rolling the bud. Just the simple action made her body squirm and roll, a quick sob escaping from her breath, and soon enough, he did feel her tighten sharply around him, forcing him to spill inside her, a gasp appearing from him, and his arms collapsed, forcing him onto her, but he managed to roll to the side, pulling the white body against his dark one.

“You’re too perfect,” he murmured, arm moving a little further down, to pull her closer, keeping them intimately close. His lips even moved to rest against her forehead. This was the most emotion he would show, at any time. He was only allowing it when he was just finished having sex, and she was happy with what happened between them, meaning she and he both finished. He was good at it, after all.

“Scar,” Olivier said, looking up at the ceiling, obviously still worried about something. He didn’t quite say yes, but made a contented hum,instead. He had a glow from the sex, and though she was worried, there was a little bit of glow, just a bit. She was relaxed, at least. “I’m pregnant.” The words made the glow disappear, and the man sat up, moving to look over her. To put it mildly, it wasn’t a good thing. He wasn’t even married to the woman.

“Shit,” he said, eyes looking down to her stomach, where he wasn’t able to see any kind of swelling. That is, yet. He couldn’t see it, but there was an intense part of him that wanted to. He couldn’t quite explain it, but right now, all he wanted was a family with her. It had never even occurred to him, to want to have her, have their children, but it was all he wanted now.

“The doctor at Briggs is going to help me through it,” she said, voice soft. “We’re going to find a way to abort-”

“No!” Scar instantly sat up, and moved a hand to her cheek, trying to stop her words further. “No. This baby deserves a chance. It’s against the wish of Ishvala... I couldn’t let you.” He would stay home, allow her to work, allow her to keep her job. He would find a way for them to keep this child, he knew he would. His thumb went over her cheek,and then he moved to gently kiss her head.

“What will we do?” Olivier asked, looking at the man, as he hovered slightly over her.

“I’ll take care of them,” he promised, moving a hand to her low belly, resting over where they might be. “We will figure this out,” he said, promised. Her eyes closed, trying to accept that, somehow.

“Okay,” she whispered, eyes closing, hoping he would be able to follow through on that promise.

\----

The years had not been easy, that was for sure. They’d gotten married nearly immediately after finding out she was pregnant, and he had taken her last name, as had their daughter. Yet, they quickly found out that though they were a good match, they weren’t perfect. They were both much too suborn, but usually, they managed to make it work with their child. They both knew that their daughter needed to have a good life, and since she had two strong parents, she would also grow up to be strong.

They had a good system, at least. Olivier would wake up, leave the house at five in the morning, get to the fort by six, and she would work as Scar and her daughter would get ready. Their shift would start at ten, allowing enough time for them to properly sleep, and often times, whoever had the calm day would take care of her. Once the day ended, around six in the evening for Olivier, and about four in the afternoon for Scar, they’d go home, to the small cottage outside the lands of the base. Olivier would often come home to Ishvalian food, something she’d been growing to like, and after a few hours, they’d all to go bed, after listening to the radio for some time, or talking of stories of the promised day, and their fights in it.

Every night, Olivier would fall asleep in Scar’s arms, and sometimes, their daughter was between them.  
\------

When they were retired, they kept a similar pattern going, though it wasn’t exact. She’d always wake up early. Their daughter was raised, and they’d never had another child. Though they still had an amazing amount of sex, and Olivier was using Alchemy, despite Scar’s dislike of Amestrian alchemy. She wasn’t prepared when she woke up, when she was eighty, to feel a cold arm around her, limp. Her blue eyes, not as clear now, opened, and the cry that tore from her mouth was a sound of pure agony. She couldn’t help it, the pain in her, the loss of her love, the man she’d grown to love, eventually. She didn’t know how to deal with it. He’d gone silently, peacefully, and all Olivier wanted was to have him against her side again.

When they found the two, they’d been married for nearly fifty years, and even in death, they were in each others arms, Olivier’s head against his still firm chest, Scar’s arms around her still thin waist. No one knew just how to write their obituaries, but when they were buried, their headstones matched.

“The Icy Lovers, Olivier Mira Armstrong, and Scar Armstrong.” They were laid to rest next to her mother, father, and brother, and not as many people were there as would be thought.

Yet, their eternal love was something that was spoken about for years, by all of the Armstrongs, as well as their legendary stubbornness.

**Author's Note:**

> why'd i do this


End file.
